Zoey stubled the street, bags hanging over one arm, the other clutching a purse for dear life. Her dark hair was a mess, windblown and tangled. She had been half asleep when she got off the plane in Ireland, and had gotton off her train a couple blocks away, hopelessly lost. Now she spotted the castle rising up like a beacon. With a little shriek of glee she began running, sore feet protesting in her heels. Zoey staggered through the wood gates which were held back with sturdy vines. She saw a women and two girls standing there. She regained her composure quickly.
"Sup." she said cooly, hoping they hadn't noticed her excited enterence. But, c'mon, she had a reason to be excited! After growing up with american money and streets and normal accents, Zoey was totally unprepared for her little quest over the ocean. "I'm Zoey Spleha."